


From Despair to Hope (a.k.a. No, Really, I Have a Proper Hat and Everything...)

by smithy_of_words



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Friendship saves the day, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:22:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithy_of_words/pseuds/smithy_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aveline's guards struggle to hold off Starkhaven's forces during the events of Inquisition. Just when things look hopeless, a surprise friend from the past brings help, and a very cool hat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Despair to Hope (a.k.a. No, Really, I Have a Proper Hat and Everything...)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fizzfooz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzfooz/gifts).



The city seemed to always be smoldering.

Starkhaven’s forces had been laying siege to the outer walls for what seemed liked months, and even the massive series of chains that protected the docks looked as if they’d crumble into the sea any minute.

But they would hold.

The rest of the world could go to the Void, but Kirkwall and its guards would keep the city standing—even if all that remained was dust and ash.

Aveline and Donnic felt as though they’d lived through another age in the span of a year.  Their once bright hair had streaks of grey, and their faces too seemed to take on a grey tinge, much like the rest of the city.  Fatigue had set in and was working its way through the bones of even the most battle-hardened veterans. 

Aveline thought often of the Blight and Ostagar. At the time, she couldn’t image a worse fate than her people and her king being betrayed at the hands of one of their leaders.  But even in the face of so much destruction and death, the attack from the darkspawn was over relatively quickly—a matter of hours.

These current attacks showed no signs of stopping.

Anders had left the city months and months prior, cast out by Hawke in (what was in Aveline’s mind) a vain attempt to save what was left of the decent man she once knew.  Perhaps it was too merciful, allowing the one who had caused so much destruction and death his freedom, but Hawke did not see it as such; after the Gallows, and the fall of Meredith, Marian marched straight up to Anders, grabbed him by the front of his robes, and practically spat in his face.

Aveline noticed her face reflected in the now dull metal of her blade. Her eyes looked nearly as dull. But Hawke back then? There was no comparison. Fifty blades could not have cut as much as her harsh glare or her steel tongue.

“Get out of my sight. I allowed you to live to correct what little you may after your actions. We’re done here; Meredith is dead, the Templars are letting us leave, and you had better get a head start, because if I see you again, I cannot promise that I will be as charitable as I am in this moment.” She shoved him roughly into the dirt, “So go help people.  Start another of your damned clinics. Try to serve as much as you can, and maybe when you go to the Maker’s side, he will forgive what you have done.  I cannot promise that I will.”

Aveline absent-mindedly wiped her blade, removing as much grit and blood as she could.  If only Hawke were here, maybe she could make the attacks stop. That damned woman seemed to be able to always do the impossible. 

No, instead Aveline had a city full of starving citizens, empty buildings, no supplies, and barely any infrastructure.  The alienage was almost entirely destroyed, and almost all the surviving elves went with Merrill to find shelter elsewhere.  Most of the city had fled the fighting after the Chantry explosion and ensuing events, including many of the guards who had families and wanted to see them to safety.

The few individuals that remained had nothing left except their promise to serve Kirkwall and its people—and both Kirkwall and her people appeared as if they would pass from existence any day.

After months of rationing, reorganizing, and reassuring, it became clear that Sebastian and his armies of Chantry faithful would stop at nothing until they rectified what they perceived as the reason for the rebellion—the freedom of Anders and the support of the mages in Kirkwall. They were back for Ander’s blood, and the heads of anyone else who stood in their way of revenge.  The fact that he was long gone mattered little.

So, Aveline remained, hoping that it was at all possible to convince Sebastian to stop his ridiculous siege, and to protect what was left of what was now her home.  She and Donnic had written so many letters to the new Inquisition and anyone who would listen for as much help as they could muster.  A few wealthy nobles had allowed their estates to be used for refugees, if indeed their homes still stood, but food and clean water was running scarce, and there were hardly any healers or herbs. 

One day, when there was a lull in the fighting, Aveline sat in the shade of what used to be the Gallows, wiping the sweat from her brow before it stung her eyes.  A shadow fell before her, and her head snapped up, gripping her sword to address the potential threat.

Had someone finally breached the inner walls?

But it was no person—it was a bird. It was a raven, to be exact, with a message lashed to one of its legs.

It was obviously well-trained, as it barely fluttered about as she moved to take the parchment.

It read:

“Aveline, my name is Sister Leliana, Left Hand of the Divine.  You may recall having met me in Kirkwall as Sister Nightingale.  As you can tell by the state of your city, as well as by the gaping hole in the sky, things even worse than the Divine and I feared have come to pass. However, I am writing this message to give you what hope and good news I can.  Assuming my raven finds you alive and well, I have information of reinforcements that may prove useful to you and your guards…”

Aveline’s eyes widened as she scanned the rest of the letter. She ran to find Donnic.

\---

It was evening now, and finally the city was free from attacks.  It was time to assess the situation, damage to the walls, and any deaths or injuries that had occurred during the day’s fighting. Most of the city guards were busy tending to the wounded and trying to distribute the rapidly dwindling rations. Donnic was mediating an argument over bedroll space and generally trying to keep the peace.

Aveline was not in the main crowd, however.

She had slipped away to the docks.

If things were to change for the better, Sister Leliana’s information had to be good. Otherwise, she feared the city would not hold much longer. 

Aveline briskly walked the bulwarks along the water and headed for the main gate. There, she looked over the misty sea, squinting into the dusk air.

And then she saw…

Aveline’s lips quirked into a smile—the first she’d felt on her face in a long time.

“The slattern…well, I’ll be damned.”

In under an hour, Aveline had rallied every able-bodied person to her side.  If this plan was to work, they needed to be strong, and they needed to be fast.

The small crowd worked as fast as possible to lower the chains using the massive system of gears and levers. Finally, they fell with a mighty splash.

The ships sailed forward at quite a clip; they weren’t Qunari warships or anything having that kind of size or power, but they were agile and filled to the brim with pirates.

Once the small fleet had docked, Aveline marshalled the last of the exhausted people’s strength, raising the chains once more, ensuring that if Starkhaven had acquired any sort of naval forces, they would not follow.

Aveline rushed down the stairs, nearly stumbling, and made her way to the gangway of the largest ship.

With a dramatic flourish, Isabela appeared, dressed in her usual regalia of a tunic and tall boots, but this time wearing a large-brimmed black hat with an enormous feather.

Her eyes seemed to shine in the setting sun, as they always had, and she sashayed down to meet the awaiting crowd, a cocky smirk on her face.

“Well, captain. It looks like you’ll actually have to call me captain, too. I’ve got the hat now, so it’s official.”

Aveline actually startled herself with a bark of a laugh.

“Not a chance. Good of you to finally make it. Do you enjoy waiting until people are almost dead to make your dramatic return? This is the second time this has happened…”

Isabela pouted, “Well, while you know I have a flair for the dramatic, I think you’ll find that I was a bit preoccupied gathering men for my mission.”

Aveline raised an eyebrow in question, “What, you came to save me on the Left Hand’s orders? I thought you didn’t take orders.”

Isabela produced a piece of folded parchment from her breast band. It bore the seal of the Inquisition in gold wax.

“I didn’t take orders from her.  I was on my way to follow Hawke to Weisshaupt when I ran into Varric. It’s funny how often that happens. It’s the chest hair—I couldn’t stay away. Ahem…but we drank some warm ale and got to talking about the good old days, and he mentioned that you could use my help. It took me a while to get enough crew and supplies, but here I am. And you’d better appreciate this. I could’ve followed Hawke and be warming her bed right this instant. Instead, I’m saving you lot…again.”

Aveline looked up from the paper and rolled her eyes.

“Well, ‘this lot’ thanks you for finally showing up.”

Isabela opened her mouth, expecting to have to come back with another witty retort, but her eyes suddenly began to water. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this banter. She sprang up on her tiptoes, throwing her arms around Aveline’s neck, much to the crowd’s surprise. Who was this that the Captain allowed this show of affection?

“I missed you, big girl.” Isabela spoke softly into Aveline’s braid.

Aveline gripped her tightly in a bear hug, “And I missed you…captain; are you ready to fight?”

“Of course I am. With a dashing pirate queen and a woman-shaped battering ram, we can’t fail.”

 

The city stopped smoldering. 

Little by little Sebastian and his allies were pushed back and eventually forced to retreat.

Kirkwall was broken and its people were bloodied and scarred, but they both still stood.

And amidst what remained, Aveline could finally rest—her people now out of grave danger, and her husband and (dare she say it) best friend by her side.

It would be a long road to recovery, but with more manpower and the enemy’s boot off their neck, Kirkwall, one day soon, would thrive again.

**Author's Note:**

> (Un-beta'd)  
> I love any combination of Aveline and Isabela--romantic, platonic, anything! Ever since I first heard their banter in the game, I just wanted to know more about them and their fabulous interactions. This story isn't as specific about those interactions, but I wanted to show the depth of friendship that could remain, even through a hellish nightmare of a reality. I hope this story did that at least somewhat.  
> Side note: I know that Leliana's comments on the War Table missions about Kirkwall indicate that she wants to intimidate Aveline into giving Sebastian territory, but since I'm playing with an unhardened Leliana, I can't see her immense sense of justice allowing innocent people to suffer pointlessly like that. I played a bit with the facts to have her be the one to support Aveline by helping send Isabela to he, instead of Cullen, but I hope you can forgive me that.  
> I want to write more about these two in the future. It's my first story featuring them, and it ended up being closer to a study of Aveline coping under pressure. (It's funny how you can intend to write one thing, and then a story goes in a completely different direction, seemingly with a mind of its own.) Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it!  
> I liked writing it, and anytime I get to celebrate the great women of the Dragon Age universe, I'm pleased. I hope this story finds you happy and well.


End file.
